


Peppers and Haggis

by starbirdrampant (ineasako22)



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2018 [8]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineasako22/pseuds/starbirdrampant
Summary: Made for the February Ficlet Challenge 2018Prompt: Character A encounters a very hot pepper





	Peppers and Haggis

“You should try this,” Amrothos smiled, holding what appeared to be a… small, pointy, red berry.

Éomer eyed the proffered fruit warily. He’d learned to be wary of food offered by his wife’s relatives. After that one seafood debacle…

“No thank you,” he said, wondering where Lothíriel had gone. Likely Eowyn had claimed her under some pretense or other.

“It’s Lothíriel’s favorite,” his brother-in-law wheedled. “If you’re to import enough of these for Lothi’s birthday in five months, you’ll need to try it now…. So you can tell the cooks how to use it,” he added at Éomer’s dubious look.

Éomer had a sinking feeling not unlike the feeling he’d had when watching an eight-year-old Eowyn climb their father’s warhorse. “And why can’t Lothíriel tell the cooks what kind of dish this… pepper… would work in?”

Amrothos held the pepper closer. “Think of how happy she’d be if you surprised her with it. On her birthday with it, no less!”

Éomer still did not take the pepper. “Forgive me if I’m less than inclined to take food from you after the last time, Amrothos.”

“Yes, but you can see this one,” the other man countered. “And it is clearly not an octopus. In fact, it has no legs at all!” He glanced over Éomer’s shoulder and stepped closer. “Quick, my sister’s coming. Take it.”

Still reticent, Éomer nonetheless reached out his hand and grabbed the dark red pepper. It was a small fruit, less than the size of his pinky finger, and his fingertips tingled where they touched it. He would regret this, he knew, but he lifted the pepper to his mouth anyways.

“ _Éomer, don’t–_ ” shouted Lothíriel from behind him.

He bit down. The flavor was sweet at first, but the sweetness turned to heat that _seared_ his mouth as if he’d drunk boiling water straight from the kettle. It lit up his mouth in shrieking agony before traveling down his throat and up into his nose until he could feel his eyes begin to water.

Amrothos was laughing, great uproarious laughs that left him clinging to the wall for support. So Éomer did what any Rider of Rohan would do in this kind of conflict with an enemy.

He doubled down.

The second bite was much like the first, though thankfully the burning didn’t increase much. He finished the pepper in complete silence, with as straight a face as he could muster, and felt the satisfaction well inside of him as Amrothos watched him with wide and startled eyes.

“Not bad,” he said. “A little sweet for my tastes, but not bad.”

“Amrothos,” Lothíriel said before her brother could respond. “I think you’ve done quite enough. Father’s looking for you.”

Amrothos left without another word, though his shock still played across his face. Once he left, Éomer collapsed against the wall and fumbled for the small water skin he always kept strapped to his belt.

Lothíriel stopped him. “No, don’t. The water won’t help. Here.” She handed him a roll from dinner. “Try this to start. I’ll get you some mead.” 

No sooner had he heard the shuffled of her slippers on the cool stone of his sister’s home then he’d shoved half of the roll in his mouth, sighing internally as the burning abated. The second half of the bread helped further, but his throat still burned painfully when Lothíriel returned.

She smiled at him, her grey eyes twinkling. “Well I’ve confused your sister’s cook enough for the year, I think,” she said, and handed him a mug filled with the same sweet mead normally used in the stirrup cups. “This will help.”

“Amrothos said it was your favorite,” Éomer told her once he could speak again. His voice was as hoarse as if he’d spent a day training recruits.

“It _is_ my favorite.” She shook her head. “But I didn’t start eating peppers like that until I turned nineteen. They’re something you have to work up to. Besides,” her grin took on a mischievous light. “I know exactly how to get him back. Remember that meal the housekeeper served the first day I arrived?”

Éomer nodded. “I do… but it was only sheep’s stomach, filled with herbs and… oh.”

“I think we should have it for dinner tomorrow.”

He folded her into his arms, hiding his grin in the fall of her long, black hair. “I like the way you think, wife.”

**Author's Note:**

> Completely unbeta'd, any mistakes are my own.


End file.
